


Not Today

by AsheTarasovich (natalieashe), natalieashe



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 02:43:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2371532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/pseuds/AsheTarasovich, https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/pseuds/natalieashe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond and Q are realising there may be more to their relationship than duvet time</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Today

Bond stretched and groaned at the glorious ache in every golden muscle of his overworked body. Q's sex-mussed tangle of dark curls spilled across his chest, tickling enough to prickle goose-bumps over his skin and Bond dropped his chin to place a tender kiss on the crown of the other man's head, falling back against the pillows with an exhausted huff.

"Christ, I think I finally know what 'shagged out' feels like."

Q giggled, curls bouncing adorably as he jiggled on Bond's impressive pectoral, turning his head to bite the hard muscle.

"No more, Q,  _please_!" Bond groaned.

"Heading for the Viagra generation old man?"

"Cheeky little shit." Bond flipped him, pinning him with strong thick fingers on his skinny upper arms. Q wriggled deliciously underneath him, but Bond had to concede he was done for a few hours at least.

"You smell like sweat and sex," Q purred. He licked a wet stripe up Bond's neck and collapsed against the mattress squealing when Bond poked his fingers into his ribs, tickling mercilessly. Q thrashed, head whipping left and right, squirming and squeaking and begging for mercy. "Off, off,  _off_!"

Bond 'offed' with a smirk and a sharp slap to Q's skinny thigh. "Time to clean up, buttercup. You have work in an hour. Strip the bed when you rise, clean linen in the closet."

" _Buttercup_!" He snorted. "Not your fucking maid Bond," Q pouted prettily and Bond had a flash of the younger man bent over in a pinny brandishing a feather duster that probably shouldn't have been quite as appealing as it was. He winked over his shoulder as he prowled to the bathroom.

"I tip well."

Q lounged in bed wearing a soppy grin watching Bond's perfect naked physique move around the bathroom until the shower screen steamed too much to see more than a shadow. He was extremely  _fond_  of the man and thoroughly enjoyed being in his bed - or sofa, back seat of his car, bent over his desk - but this was all starting to feel a little  _domestic_ , and one thing Bond didn't do for long was cosy coupledom. Probably time for Q to back off a bit, self preservation. Bond stepped out of the shower, dripping wet and gleaming, and Q thought  _soon, but not today_.

He hauled the sheets off the bed, burying his face in the expensive high count linen and sighed contentedly. It smelled of Bond's aftershave, sex and lube, the perfume of sated lust. The clean sheets were luxurious slate grey, heavy and crisply pressed. Q smoothed them across the mattress, tucking and folding them into perfect hospital corners worthy of a Boy Scout. He was bent over the foot of the bed finishing the final one when there was a filthy chuckle from the bathroom door.

"Well aren't you a picture?"

Q wiggled his arse flirtatiously. "Ready to go again gorgeous?"

"God, I wish. You should come with a health warning, darling, you're obscenely flexible, and seeing you displaying like that... Christ!"

Bond was across the room in less than a second, sliding his palms over Q's skinny rear. He wrapped one tanned forearm under Q's stomach and pulled him upright so he could kiss the nape of his neck, sucking lightly on the pale skin until it bruised purple.

"Bond, people will see..." Q whined.

"Good. They'll see you're taken."

He walked him to the shower, bodies still awkwardly pressed together like some kind of comedy dance routine. It was ridiculous, funny and surprisingly erotic, and Q was well on the way to another erection by the time Bond pushed him under the streaming jet of hot water.

The shower gel was the same spicy scent Q detected when he ran the tip of his nose along the skin above the pulse points of Bond's body. At his neck it was always fresh and clean, at the crease of his groin it was enriched with Bond's unique maleness. Massaged into his own shoulders, swept over his abdomen, lathered around his aching cock it felt like possession.

"Come back to me. At the end of your shift come back here with me." Bond whispered, and Q wondered if he had read his doubts about the longevity of their arrangement, was trying to reassure him he was still required.

"Yes," he promised raggedly as Bond's fist worked him to completion. "Yes, god yes."  _Until you tire of me_ , his sad subconscious said.

They towelled off and returned to the bedroom, Q lifting the new duvet cover from the floor. He shook it out, spreading his arms as wide as possible, still too short for the king-size breadth. Chuckling he climbed inside the envelope of fabric, billowing it out around him as he sought the top corners.

Bond laughed out loud at the Q shape drowned in slate cotton. He fell to his knees, finding and gripping two corners of the heavy quilt and wriggling under the outer edge of the cover until he was kneeling at his lover's feet in the muffled cocoon of material.

"Stand up," Q said softly and Bond rose to his feet dragging the weight of his undeclared love for his beautiful boy with him into the dim heat of the cover. Between them they wrestled the uncooperative duvet into the corners, giggling like children.

"Now what?" Bond asked, and Q's eyes gleamed wickedly. In two steps Bond's calves hit the bed and they were falling, landing with a soft 'oof' of pain when Q's bony hipbones glanced off Bond's abdomen. "Crazy boy," Bond muttered fondly into the intimate darkness.

"Sex God," teased Q finding Bond's mouth with his own, dragging his tongue along the seam of his lips, suckling at the lower mischievously.

"You have a job to go to." Bond reminded him between kisses, "we can continue this later."

"I'll hold you to that Bond," he breathed, clinging to him in the soft folds of fabric, falling in love a little further. Tomorrow he would back off a little, not today.


End file.
